


The morning hunts you down

by roadsoftrial



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Forbidden Love, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, brotherhood era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-18 22:57:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13110246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roadsoftrial/pseuds/roadsoftrial
Summary: Gladiolus Amicitia and Prompto Argentum have been growing closer and closer each passing day.Not everyone is happy about that.





	The morning hunts you down

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dentedsky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dentedsky/gifts).



> My gift to Dentedsky for the FFXV Holiday Gift Exchange!  
> The prompt was "Pining, wanting something he thinks he can't have, angst."  
> I hope you like it!

Gladio: _It’s not that I don’t want him there_

Noctis: _Then what is it?_

Gladio: _I’d rather not be around him, that’s all_

Noctis: _It’s going to be fine, just avoid him_

( _I don’t want to have to avoid him_ )

Gladio: _I guess.._

(He imagines Prompto’s face as he notices him, the way he will wave enthusiastically, silently begging him to come talk to him, the way Gladio will have to make that half-smile, half-pout, ‘sorry-not-now’ face he keeps chucking at him lately that never fails to make Prompto want to disappear, and Gladio feel awful about it. They’ve been performing this painful dance for weeks now, though Prompto is being dragged along more than anything else, with no clue what is going on, and Gladio keeps hoping it will stop hurting so sharply every time those blue eyes pierce into his, but it never does.)

Noctis: _I still don’t get why you can’t just be around him. Did he do something?_

Noctis: _Did YOU do something?_

Gladio: _It’s complicated_

Noctis: _Don’t bullshit me, Gladio_

Gladio: _It doesn’t matter. It’s better if I’m not near him._

Noctis: _Fuck off Gladio why are you being like that?_

Gladio: _Just ask Ignis._

Because Ignis knows.

Because Ignis has been running around behind the scenes, trying to change minds, convince, with the influence Gladio lacks, to no avail.

Because Ignis had to be the one to break the news of what the Council has been whispering amongst themselves about their fling (‘It’s not a fling. It hasn’t had time to be, but if it became anything, it would be more than a fling.’

‘I know, but they couldn’t possibly understand that.’)

Though he didn’t want to be the one to break it to him, though he tenses up whenever Prompto’s name is mentioned in front of Gladio.

The hardest, Gladio’s come to realize, is knowing just how much he’s hurting Prompto in the process. A lot more than it’s hurting him.

Because he’s in the know. He carries on, with dragged feet and sore eyes, but it is still considered carrying.

But Prompto… Prompto doesn’t know. Gladio refuses to wrap him up in all of this, refuses to let the councilmen have their way with him too. Refuses to let them dig their claws into Prompto’s already scarred back.

It hurts to stop showing up for their morning runs, hurts to cancel lunch plans and walks home, hurts to make up excuses every time, hurts to find an excuse out of everything.

‘I’m sorry, Gladio,’ Ignis says (and Gladio knows he is genuine when he does) every time Noctis makes plans for the four of them, every time he has to escort Noctis and Prompto on their outings, every time Gladio has to ask another member of the Crownsguard to go in his place, because the thought of Prompto’s face, desperate to talk to him, desperate to stay by his side, desperate to understand what he could have possibly done wrong, is too much.

Ignis: _Noctis is asking me why you hate Prompto. What should I tell him?_

Gladio: _Make something up. But please tell him I don’t hate Prompto._

Because he could never forgive himself if Prompto came to believe that. Even if it would make things go down so much more easily. Cut things off in one swift motion.

Ignis: _If I may, Gladio, I still think you should let Noct know what is going on. He can help._

Gladio: _So my father and the King can get involved? I’m good._

Ignis: _They don’t have to._

But they would, inevitably, and Gladio knows they already worry about too many things, doesn’t want to burden them with something he should be able to get over on his own.

Or so he tries to convince himself.

***

An entire week passes before the dreaded party is finally upon them, an entire week of carefully scheduling his training, his sessions with Noctis, even his free time, so that it doesn’t interfere with Prompto’s schedule. So that they don’t end up at the same place at the same time, so that they aren’t seen together, so that he doesn’t get caught staring at him, an irrepressible smile at the corner of his lips, so that he isn’t tempted to walk towards him, hold his hand, apologize until his breath gives out, walk away and never let go of him.

He wants to do it, he truly does. He misses Prompto, misses talking to him, making him laugh, witnessing the blush under his freckles when he does. He’s all he can think about when he can’t sleep at night, all that’s on his mind when he loses focus in the middle of training, when his father asks him, privately, what’s going on with him, why he’s been so out of it. He’s the only explanation he can think of when he ponders whether or not to tell him, when he decides it best not to.

But he is scared. Not for his own sake; he can handle the vitriol, the disdain, he’s grown up within the council’s games and has learned to tune them out.

But Prompto hasn’t, and he feels like the least he can do for him is protect him from this mess, even if it means pushing him away.

An entire week passes before the Winter Ball. Gladio attends like he’s attended anything of late: reluctantly, and out of obligation. He lurks around the ballroom, doesn’t want to look at anyone, doesn’t care to mingle. He wishes Prompto were here, wishes he could find him, dance with him without a care in what anyone has to say. It might be too late for that.

Noctis has let him know early on that Prompto has decided to stay home.

‘Why?’ he asks, though he feels he already knows the answer.

‘It was logical. You have to be here, he doesn’t. He said he doesn’t mind,’ Noctis said, visibly annoyed.

And Gladio knows it’s a lie. Prompto has been talking about the Ball since Noctis first invited him back in September. Gladio’s helped him pick an outfit, reviewed the proper etiquette with him, practiced their dance moves in Prompto’s living room, laughing, out of breath before long, so close to him, so warm, so simple, so fun.

Guilt makes him excuse himself as Ignis interrupts them, asking to talk with Noctis for a moment. Neither of them can walk away fast enough.

Gladio walks without giving it much thought, ends up outside before he knows it. The winter night is frigid and bites right through his suit, but he can’t bring himself to return to the stuffy party, can’t bring himself to look at all these people he doesn’t even like, talk with them about things he doesn’t care about, all the while Prompto is sitting alone at home, probably feeling awful and not even knowing why.

Ignis’ soft hand against his shoulder brings him back. He’s not sure how long he’s been there, how he found him, and frankly he doesn’t really care.

‘How are you feeling?’ Ignis asks in a low voice.

‘Like shit,’ Gladio whispers, staring at the lights spreading across the city.

‘Shall we go back inside?’

Gladio shrugs and follows him.

‘I’ve… made an executive decision, I hope you’ll forgive me.’

‘… What did you do?’

‘I told Noctis about your and Prompto’s situation. Under the promise he won’t take any action before consulting us.’

‘… Are you fucking serious? Why did you do that?’

‘He cornered me, and I ran out of excuses. I apologize.’

Gladio rubs his eyes, grunts in despair.

‘Fuck me dead, Iggy. What did Noct say?’

‘He was furious, understandably. With the council members giving you grief, of course, but also that the two of you refused to tell him anything.’

Of course he was furious. He deserved to know his shield and his best friend were one step short of being blackmailed. Gladio had chosen to keep quiet for Prompto’s sake, but given how things turned out for them, maybe he hadn’t made the right call.

‘In any case,’ Ignis continues, pulling Gladio from his thoughts, ‘Noctis and I have warned the Glaives to up the security a touch while you’re gone.’

He finally looks at Ignis, puzzled. There’s that glint in his eyes, the kind he has when he’s particularly proud of the plan he’s come up with.

‘While I’m gone?’

‘His Highness has ordered that his Shield personally fetch and escort Mr. Argentum to Insomnia’s Annual Royal Winter Ball. Prompto has been warned and is waiting for you.’

He sees it, right there, barely noticeable, the little smirk on his lips.

Gladio chuckles, hesitates for a split second before pulling Ignis into a tight hug.

‘Thank you,’ he whispers while Ignis taps his back softly.

And he runs towards the exit, almost forgetting his coat.

***

He reaches Prompto’s apartment twenty minutes later. He sits in the car for a bit, unsure how to proceed. They haven’t so much as talked in weeks, and Gladio owes him an apology more than anything.

What if Prompto is angry with him? He has every right to be.

And fuck it, he decides. He just wants to see him, for now, bask in the comfort his cheerful face never fails to inspire. Gods, he’s missed him.

He finally gathers the courage to walk to the door, rings the doorbell, stuffs his hands in his pockets to hide the fact they’re shaking just a little.

Prompto opens the door after what feels like excruciatingly long seconds, and Gladio is immediately overwhelmed by the way he looks in his suit, the one they picked together, the way his hair is almost tamed, not quite in place, with a tinge of rebellion (just like Prompto) the way his eyes are staring at his, so blue, so warm, but hesitant, like he’s not sure whether he’s in front of the distant Gladio of the past weeks, or the other Gladio, the one who talks with him for hours on ends, the one who puts his arm around his shoulder, innocent, harmless, natural, the one who ruffles his hair and pats his back, the one he’s almost kissed, once or twice, before the moment passed and they laughed, faces flushed, a little embarrassed.

‘Hi,’ Prompto finally says, a shy smile on his lips, lighting up the whole room.

Gladio doesn’t answer, tugs at Prompto’s lapel, and holds him against him like he’ll never let go. Prompto lets out the breath he’s been holding, slipping his arms around Gladio’s waist and stuffing his face into his chest. Neither of them move for a long time, revelling in the touch they’ve both been craving for so long.

They will need to talk about the past few weeks, and Gladio will need to apologize for the bad decisions he’s been making.

But tonight, making Prompto happy is all he cares about. And he will make it happen, he thinks as his lips press the top of Prompto’s head. He will.

**Author's Note:**

> (I didn't know if you wanted a happy ending or not but hey, 'tis the season to be merry and whatnot)


End file.
